The Psychotherapy of Doc Martin, by Dr. Rachel Timoney
(This is a form of fan fiction, intended solely for educational purposes, that combines events from the Doc Martin TV show, Season 7, with stuff I make up.)
Dr. Rachel Timoney was looking forward to her first session with the eminent Dr. Martin Ellingham. She didn’t know much about him, apart from he was rumored to have abruptly resigned his prestigious position as head of vascular medicine at Imperial College, London. Chance would bring them together for an initial psychotherapy session. Dr. Ellingham (Doc Martin, to the locals) had taken a position in Portwenn, an isolated fishing village on the Celtic Sea. And she was spending a few months in Portwenn, writing and seeing a few patients.
Rachel Timoney was once considered a prodigy in her field. Nine years ago, at age 23, she was granted a doctorate in psychotherapeutic theory. Her research had gained a moderate bit of fame, even getting into a few newspapers at the time. Even she knew that being highly regarded as a psychotherapy expert at age 23 would be beyond stupid. Mathematicians do breakthrough work at 23. Physicists do breakthrough work at 23. Even those in the arts do breakthrough work at 23. Counselors do not do breakthrough work at 23. There are certain things you can learn through experience, only, and if anything, those gifted in academia have typically sacrificed life experiences to excel in studies. There’s an age between infancy and senility that someone can become a good therapist, and it ain’t 23.
In the years following receiving her doctorate, Timoney has worked on living up to her reputation. She’s done well, but from what she knew of him, she believed that having Dr. Martin Ellingham in therapy would be a novel challenge. It proved to be that.
Doc Martin
Seconds after he sits for their initial session, Martin informs Timoney that he expects she’d diagnose him as having attachment disorder. (Timoney notes silently that Martin describes himself as if he were a third party.) Martin explains that he was “an unwanted, unloved child” and gives a brief account of his upbringing by his cold and self-centered parents. (Later, Timoney would recount to her mentor that if Harry Potter had Doc Martin’s parents, rather than sacrifice their lives for his, they would have swapped him to Voldemort for a MacDonald’s breakfast coupon.)
Martin makes it clear that he is aware of his interpersonal shortcomings. In discussing his marital difficulties, he accepts the entire blame. Responding to Martin’s depiction of his life, Timoney comments that he is as blunt with himself as he is with others. Martin had never considered that and feels his body relax into the thought.
At the close of the session, Timoney suggests that it’s rare that one member of a couple is the sole source of conflict and asks that his wife Louisa come for an appointment.
Louisa
Dr. Timoney learns from their session that Louisa is an accomplished, articulate Portwenn schoolteacher. What Louisa is not, is eager to be in the session. She makes cracks about Timoney’s youth, implying that Timoney is inexperienced and naïve. Louisa contends that her marital problems are entirely due to Martin’s deficits in sensitivity, and that he should (as the English say) get them sorted without her involvement.
Responding to Dr. Timoney’s questions, Louisa states that her parents were “fine, normal as you like,” moments later adding that her mother abandoned the family when she was 12, but “I didn’t really need a mother by then.” And, by the way, her father “spent some time in prison” when she was a young child. After listening to herself describe her childhood as normal as you like, with reluctance, Louisa agrees to attend couple counseling.
Initial sessions
In Martin and Louisa’s first couples session, Louisa begins with an account of their relationship. Louisa describes their awkward courtship: boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy marries girl, girl has baby, boy loses girl. If it were a TV show, Louisa explains, it’d be the usual get-them-to-watch-the-next-season stuff. But it’s not a TV show.1 Martin and Louisa don’t stay apart because of contrivances. They don’t miss a reconciliation because one of them is seen hugging an attractive stranger who turns out to be a sibling, while viewers yell explanations at the TV screen. Their problem is straightforward and never-changing. As much as Louisa wants to be with Martin, she’s constantly frustrated by his interpersonal limitations.
Experiments
As Timoney has learned through her training, struggling couples often have repetitive interactional patterns that result in seemingly irresolvable conflicts. Commonly used interventions or experiments (as she prefers to think of them) can be used successfully with many couples. For example, have them experiment with a small (but designed to interrupt) behavioral change in the middle of a pattern of conflict. Or, if one or both members of the couple believes that conflict is bad, and have no way to deal with anger and resentment other than to withdraw (after all, avoiding conflict worked for their parents, right up to the divorce), the therapist can design a practice for successful conflict resolution.
As we shall see, commonly used interventions don’t work for everyone. And they do not for Martin and Louisa. Their pasts have left Martin with a limited repertoire of behavior and Louisa with small boundaries of trust. Their situation calls for a specialist, not a general practitioner. Timoney attempts three homework experiments that fail:
(1) Homework: Timoney has figured that Martin and Louisa have problems with physical intimacy, they are told to hug three times a day, while stating something nice about each other.
Failure: While it’s true that Martin is not a toucher, he does like holding Louisa. In this case, the not touching was an effect, not a cause of their psychological distance, and the homework just creates additional awkwardness. To add to the awkwardness, Louisa never thinks of anything positive to say to Martin.
(2) Homework: Because Martin is a control freak (affirmed by both Martin and Louisa), they are told to have an outing in which Louisa is in total charge. In theory, this will help balance their relationship.
Failure: Louisa decides on a picnic to the beach, where Martin is uncomfortable with the random elements of a beach and a picnic, but sets out to give Louisa a normal family outing. The outing is eventually interrupted by a medical emergency that Martin must attend to.
(3) Homework: Martin and Louisa did not have a typical courtship, that is, they didn’t date. Timoney suggests some conventional courtship outings. Martin and Louisa plan a restaurant date.
Failure: In just minutes spent at the restaurant (because of yet another medical emergency that requires Martin), Martin and Louisa experience the whole of their relationship awkwardness.
There’s a smorgasbord of reasons why these homework assignments were doomed. Leave room for dessert:
First, two of the assignments were exercises to get Martin and Louisa to engage more. That’s more, not better. More, not different. There wasn’t anything in these exercises that would help them engage better.
Second, each assignment was bound to make Martin feel even more awkward and more vulnerable. Martin’s increased awkwardness exacerbated the very things that Louisa finds unattractive in her husband. That is not a recipe to increase intimacy.
Third, characterizing Martin as a control freak is simplistic. He’s compulsive — habitual and tidy, beyond what most consider practical. But he’s not trying to control the behavior of others; he’s trying to control his environment in which other humans happen to be present. Being habitual and tidy is a common adaptation for those who have dealt with psychologically chaotic circumstances, especially in childhood. Even more significant, as Martin desperately wants to be with Louisa, she has the most meaningful control, control over his happiness. Martin is in control of nothing beyond his medical practice; he’s the most psychologically fragile person in Portwenn.
Fourth, Timoney misses an opportunity (which I’ll explain below) to cast Martin in a more positive light, which could have contributed to a major improvement in their relationship.
In Timoney’s mind, if her tried-and-true conflict-resolution schemes don’t work, it can’t be her fault. She salves her shrinking-ego (pun intended) through the time-tested technique of blaming her clients. After Martin and Louisa inform Timoney that they won’t be returning, she tells them that they’re “one of the most challenging cases I have ever come across.”
Dr. Timoney gets a Mulligan (in golf, a do-over)
(Up to this point, I was following the TV script. The rest is my contribution.) After Martin and Louisa decide to end counseling, Rachel Timoney feels relief, guilt, and regret — relief that she won’t have to watch herself struggle with her work, guilt that she feels that way, and regret that she did not help her clients. Timoney decides to confer with her old professor. Sure, he’s past his prime. He babbles too much, repeats himself, but now and then, he still conjures some inventive advice.2 But before she calls him, Timoney has a WTF moment. She knows what he’d say. Instead of calling her professor, Timoney contacts Martin and Louisa, apologizes for her last remarks, and states that she has some fresh ideas. Surprised by the apology, they agree to give counseling another try.
Anticipating the call to her professor, the conversation Timoney had with herself exposed that her interventions reeked of this worked in the past, so why be creative? She was being lazy: the experiments were designed with the relationship in mind, but not with the people in the relationship in mind. While couple counseling can counter interactional patterns that lead to relationship problems, that doesn’t mean you can ignore the distinctiveness that individuals bring to relationships.
Couples Therapy: it’s not just for couples anymore
Timoney notes that Louisa was right; she should have started with Martin. But not because he’s the one who needs to get his problems sorted. Despite the notoriety that Timoney got for her research, she forgot to implement her own hard-won knowledge. What her research yielded3 is that, when engaging in couple counseling, confronting a resistant client is rowing upstream.
Due to the influences of substance-abuse treatment and early family therapy, confronting clients became fashionable in the 1970s. When parents brought a child for treatment, they were told that the child’s behavior was usually a symptom of a dysfunctional marriage and poor parenting. A child client became labeled as the identified patient; the real patient, the parents were told, was the dysfunctional family, with the unspoken (and sometimes spoken) message that the parents were at fault. While confrontation made for dramatic teaching videos — therapist as action hero — the approach too often chased away the clients.4 After all, if the clients were willing to face their own problems, there wouldn’t have been all those identified-patient children in the first place.
Given the above, Timoney decides that the best course is to hold off on working directly with the relationship. As both Martin and Louisa feel that the major relationship problems lie with Martin, to avoid needless friction, Timoney opts for one-person couple therapy, the other leg of Timoney’s research.
Timoney (as have many before her) found that a change in one member of a couple can have a profound and positive effect on the relationship. Timoney knew that therapists have been practicing one-person couples therapy for decades, but have been intimidated against stating so by the family therapy mafia, who define family therapy by who comes to the session. That’s silly and never should have happened. Many family therapists apparently never moved past Piaget’s concrete-operational stage of development: once family therapy moved from the psychodynamic model to systems theory, it should have been obvious that if the client lives in a family, all therapy is family therapy.
Therapy with Martin
In discussing goals with Martin, he agrees that he would like to become more comfortable — fluid is the word agreed on — in his interactions with Louisa and with his infant son. He wants to make sure that he doesn’t recreate the relationships his parents had with him and with each other.
The experiments with Martin commence:
If you live in a cosmopolitan area where men commonly wear business suits, or you have watched episodes of Mad Men, you’ll notice that the men always unbutton their jackets when they sit and button them when they stand. A well-tailored suit jacket has no give, so a buttoned jacket pulls at the waist when the wearer is seated. Timoney jots this in her memory because it provides an inroad into a subtle experiment.
From the time he rises to when he retires for the night, Martin dresses precisely the same, in a suit with the top two buttons fastened on his three-button jacket. And you’ll observe that he never unfastens his suit jacket buttons, even when building a sandcastle with his son on the beach. A change in dress will give Martin the experience that nothing catastrophic will happen if he changes one habit.
In order, over several weeks:
To help Martin have the experience of overcoming a compulsive habit: (1) Timoney asks Martin to unbutton his jacket whenever he sits. (2) Next, she has him leave his jacket unbuttoned all day. (3) Last, she asks Martin to buy and wear casual clothes on his non-office days (presumably, the weekend). While change in one habit may seem trivial, the experience of that change can be a dramatic confidence builder.
To help Martin expand his repertoire of interpersonal responses and range of affect, Timoney exploits Martin’s desire for an enhanced relationship with his son: As stated, above, it’s obvious that Martin wishes to be involved with his son’s upbringing in a manner that sharply contrasts with how he (Martin) was raised. But he needs instruction and encouragement. While Martin gladly holds and bathes James, he does not exchange facial or noise expressions. We can assume that Martin’s deficit is a result of being neglected in infancy, that no facial expression mirroring took place between Martin and his parents.
(1) Timoney asks Martin to exchange facial and noise expressions with James. As James has learned to smile from his mother, Martin has the opportunity to both initiate and respond. (2) Rather than exchange hugs (as above), Timoney asks that Martin and Louisa trade smiles. (3) Timoney asks Martin to progressively expand his gestures of relationship beyond his son and wife. First, smile at his aunt (the one other person for whom he has affection), then his receptionist, then patients. This mildest demonstration of affect can teach him to better interact with others.
Marital grad school
After the above experiments, Timoney asks Martin and Louisa to come in together, once more. The experiments yielded a larger shift in their relationship than expected. To Timoney’s surprise, Louisa discloses that when she first met Martin, he was more outgoing and considerate. While never the life of the party, he was sensitive and generous to many in Portwenn and is acting that way again.5 Timoney realizes that she had made an assumption that Martin had always been this inhibited in his mood, sensitivity, and affect. Not learning otherwise was a rookie mistake.
Many couples have trouble in their relationship because they had no models of a good marriage. As both Martin and Louisa had parents with poor marriages, this could describe the experiences of both. However, some react the opposite of what you’d expect. Rather than stay away from marriage because they experienced poor models, they idealize what a good marriage would be like. Timoney asks each of them what a normal marriage is like. After some discussion, both admit that, while they have fantasies of a normal marriage, they guess that no such thing exists. Timoney states that fantasies of the extreme, positive or negative, usually get in the way.
Wrapping up: In their solo session, Timoney had suggested to Louisa that, given her background of abandonment by her parents, she (purposely) married someone who would leave her. As we find out, Louisa believes the exact opposite, that Martin is the most dependable and loyal man she’d ever meet. Given her background of abandonment, it’s easy to see that she picked Martin, not because he would leave her, but because he wouldn’t. If in early sessions, Timoney had made a better effort to bring this to light, it could have changed the context of their marital relationship. If every time Louisa glances at Martin and sees not someone who has a limited range of sensitivity and affect, but someone who loves her without reservation and will always be there for her and their children, Louisa’s entire attitude towards their marriage could shift.6
In the final session, Dr. Timoney, Louisa, and Martin discuss the wide variety of successful marriages. They conclude that Louisa chose Martin for his loyalty, and Martin chose Louisa because he saw in her that he could get the warmth and connection he desired.
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Well, yeah, it is. ↩︎
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A counselor friend guessed I was modeling the old professor after myself. She was right. ↩︎
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↩︎I'm making this up. The specifics of Timoney's research were never brought up in the TV show. -
Reminds me of the old joke: the operation was a success, but the patient died. ↩︎
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In early episodes, Martin comes off as a fish out of water, like Dr. Joel Fleischman from Northern Exposure. In later seasons, he comes off as a fish swimming in the Aspergers tank. ↩︎
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This change in point of view is a cornerstone of approaches influenced by the famous hypnotherapist, Milton Erickson, and in various cognitive-behavior approaches. ↩︎
Jailhouse Rock, a Brief Intervention
Part 1 • Short-Term Change Strategy: You can’t control any behavior but your own
(For confidentiality, this is a combination of more than one incident. Details have been altered so that it does not describe a real person.)
In a town in South Dakota, I was working in emergency services, which included consultation to the local jail. The manager in charge of the jail guards called my boss and explained that they had a prisoner who was driving the guards and other prisoners crazy. My boss told the jail manager she had someone who likes to work with that sort of thing. Lucky me.
The prisoner, a woman in her forties, was wreaking havoc. The crime that put her there was minor, but she was causing more problems for the jail staff than all the other prisoners combined. Her jail transgressions included putting a match to her mattress and banging on her cell walls for hours on end; the noise, of course, drove everyone nuts. The jail staff disciplined her the only way they knew how; they took away all her privileges until there were none to take away. Despite the punishment, her defiant behavior continued. The baffled and frustrated staff had blown through their repertoire with no payoff. Far from being subdued, this woman continued her incessant demand for cigarettes, but the guards were in no mood to reward her with the time to supervise her smoking, which was mandatory after she ignited a fire in her cell.
My boss met with me and suggested that we come up with a strict behavioral modification plan for the guards to implement. Instinctively, I shook my head side to side. The guards were already using an informal behavioral modification plan used by parents everywhere: eat your broccoli, and you’ll get dessert. Or, in this case, behave, and you’ll get smoke breaks when we have the time. If that worked, it would have already.
After meeting with the jail manager, I determined that the prisoner was not mentally ill, that her response to an intervention would be predictable. So I laid it out: The prisoner was to be given cigarettes, with the guard supervising her smoking, four times per shift at arbitrary intervals. By arbitrary, I explained that the cigarette breaks should in no way be connected to the prisoner’s behavior. I strongly cautioned against the guards referring to the cigarettes as a reward.
To get cooperation, I guaranteed success, but only if my instructions were followed to the letter. Of course (why else would I be telling this story?), the prisoner stopped her disruptive behavior within the next shift. The jail staff was happy, the prisoner was happy, her lawyer was happy, and I was happy. No other problems with her arose during her two-month stay.
Why did the intervention work? The answer comes in two parts: the reason the prisoner stopped her early disruptive behavior, and the reason the prisoner did not cause any new disruptions during the rest of her stay.
The first part is simple. The guards and the prisoner got caught in a power struggle early on, but once the guards knew how they would behave—regardless of how the prisoner would behave—the power struggle was over. The guards knew that they were in control of their own behavior and stopped worrying about being in control of the prisoner’s behavior—a good idea since the only behavior you can control is your own.
Part 2 • Long-Term Change Strategy: Unearned Fish
If all there was to the above intervention was that the guards no longer responded to the prisoner’s disruption, I believe that the guards would have been in for an unwelcome encore of mischief. But there was a subtle alteration in the guards’ behavior that created a continuing change in the relationship between the prisoner and the guards: they gave the prisoner cigarette breaks, not as a reward, but as a kindness. While the guards did not initially think in terms of her cigarette break being kindness, people’s emotions nearly always eventually align with their behavior. It’s like the expression, if you want to feel better, begin by smiling; that is, smile before you feel better to lead your emotions to feel better. Another example: stand straight with your shoulders square, and your confidence will improve.
Once your basic physical needs are met, relationships become more important than anything else. And by relationships, I don’t mean just family, friends, and co-workers, I mean how you get along or don’t get along with everyone you deal with. Every person in your life, for better or worse, can have an effect on your sense of self, which is why you say thank you (or not) to someone you’ll never see again. Or why you might get into a stupid power struggle with prison guards, even when it makes your own life miserable.
People often respond to reward and punishment as you’d expect. If I tell my daughter that I will give her a candy bar if she cleans her room—and she does, and I do—I will conclude that she was motivated by the promise of candy. But what if she went along with my requests most of the time, but not always? The most likely reasons for her occasional refusals are, that she is tired, that she’d rather do something more amusing, or that she’s mad at me.
If my daughter prefers doing something else over the reward of candy, then my control over what constitutes a reward at any particular time is limited. Or, if my daughter is angry with me, then she’s not likely to either give me the satisfaction of a clean room or of accepting candy from me. My daughter may prefer to suffer the consequences rather than submit to my authority.
So what does this say about reward and punishment? That it cannot be separated from the relationship between the involved parties. By what’s most important to her at the time, my daughter gives me permission to reward her or not.
John Lilly was the scientist whose study of dolphins gave them Lassie-like popularity during the 70s. When she was training them to perform (as we humans would characterize it), she noticed that if the dolphin took too long to learn a trick, and was subsequently not rewarded with fish for a long time, the dolphin would become demoralized. That is, it appeared that the dolphin was having a more difficult time learning after a threshold of repetitive failures was reached. Lilly found that the training of the dolphin could be revitalized by giving “unearned fish.” The unearned fish was a reward despite the absence of success with the trainer’s trick. Lilly speculated that the unearned fish demonstrated (to the dolphins) that the relationship between trainer and dolphin went beyond rewards for learning tricks.
The strategy of unearned fish was stumbled upon after much frustration, failure, and false assumptions about the root of the dolphin’s behavior. The trainers had to break out of the mindset they were dealing with only the dolphin’s modest desire to be fed. They had to allow for more complexity than simplistic views of reward and punishment. What was missing was the possibility that dolphin and trainer were in a relationship that went beyond a pure commerce exchange.
Back to my task at the jail:
I explained why the guards’ change in behavior had the desired effect in the short run: the guards knew that they were in control of their own behavior and stopped worrying about being in control of the prisoner’s behavior, which ended the power struggle.
Why did this seemingly nonsensical change in the guards’ behavior have the desired effect? Because both the jail staff and the prisoner were allowed to break out of their one-dimensional relationship with each other. Both had regarded all their interactions as part of a power struggle. The guards’ lone weapon was reward and punishment, leaving the prisoner with two lousy choices: surrender or defiance—neither with which she could feel comfortable. Introducing a conciliatory gesture on the staff’s part—at the height of animosity between staff and prisoner—allowed both an exit from their rigid, predictable stance.
The prerequisite for this working was that there be no catch. Fine print would have cast the gesture in the same old dingy light. So unearned fish is not simply an undeserved reward. It’s an assertion that the relationship between the giver and receiver of a reward is not solely dependent on what have you done for me lately? Or to put it another way, it implies the understanding that all relationships have a history and future (in the mind if not concrete terms). And most people (and some other mammals, apparently) prefer to be on good terms rather than bad. To change a relationship, sometimes all that is necessary is for it to be allowed to be different, and let nature take its course.
To influence behavior, expand your repertoire
There’s a saying attributed to Albert Einstein: “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome is the definition of insanity.” This is wrong for two reasons. First, Einstein never said it. Second and more to the point, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome is not the definition of insanity, it’s the definition of ineffectiveness.
The jail personnel were not trained to envision novel solutions, but they demonstrated an ability to change their behavior. They were sufficiently motivated to try something different rather than double down on failure. They had that flexibility in their behavioral repertoire.
The dolphin trainers demonstrated something more interesting, something about how science is done. Something about the myth of objectivity. You can find only what you’re looking for.